


The Stranger

by ambercreek95



Category: South Park
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, I don’t know what else to tag haha, M/M, Mafia AU, Meet-Cute, Mild Smut, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambercreek95/pseuds/ambercreek95
Summary: MAFIA AUTweek Tweak is turning 23 and has never truly lived. His responsibilities and the suffocating family business have always had to come first, and everything else was always second.When his bodyguard convinces him let loose for one night, Tweek ends up meeting a stranger who makes his pulse race.It’s just bad luck that it happens to be the one person in all of New York who shouldn’t.
Relationships: (minor background), Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 34
Kudos: 68
Collections: sp creek server secret santa 2020





	The Stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heiider12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heiider12/gifts).



> SECRET SANTA GIFT FIC  
> This is for the enigmatic heiider12! I hope you like it! Merry Christmas :)
> 
> (Also a side note: this was my first time writing any sort of smut and so I hope it’s okay and even if it isn’t, don’t tell me. I’m sensitive hahahahaha)

Tweek bounces on the balls of his feet, eyes trained on the man across from him watching his every move like a hawk. He focuses solely on the slant of his challenger's shoulders, the way he leans a little too heavy on his front foot but right now and most importantly, the way he telegraphs his right hook before he goes to strike.

The tell tale sign is enough of a warning for Tweek to duck the attack and return with a jab-cross-uppercut combo. His gloved fist connects heavily with his opponents jaw, a crunching noise resonating through the air. 

Kenny’s eyes swim in his sockets for a moment before refocusing. He vaguely registers that his mouth has filled with a coppery taste. He brings his forearm up, wiping at his mouth with the mildly sweaty appendage. A cheshire grin spreads across his reddening mouth as he spots the blood on his arm. 

“Oh, you’re dead now,” he says, a maniacal smile spreading across his handsome, boyish face. He rolls his shoulders and readjusts into his fighting stance, 10oz gloves raised in front of him.

“Yeah? Funny, ‘cause that’s what you said last week right before I kicked your ass… again,” Tweek bites back with a smug smile.

Kenny advances on the curly-haired blonde, throwing wild punches. Tweek backs away, effortlessly dodging each strike. When Kenny aims the 5th right hook at Tweek’s head, he sidesteps the punch and uses the momentum to wind up for a heavy body kick, knocking the wind out of Kenny.

Kenny wheezes, doubling over and trying to catch his breath. “Had enough yet?” Tweek asks, circling him like a shark planning his attack. 

“Oh, we’re just getting started.” Kenny straightens up, looking a bit worse for wear than he did at the beginning of the fight. He circles Tweek also, moving around each other and waiting for their opening. 

As always, Kenny strikes first. He launches himself at Tweek, both men tumbling to the padded floor. Tweek’s extensive knowledge in multiple martial art styles, including Brazilian jiu jitsu, help him quickly get the upper hand. He winds himself around Kenny’s body, manipulating him into a vulnerable position. Despite Kenny’s size advantage, Tweek’s expertise wins out when it comes to the ground fight. Within the minute, Tweek has Kenny tapping out from a particularly strong arm bar.

Tweek releases his hold on Kenny and swiftly gets to his feet. He offers his hand to the man still on the floor, cradling his tender elbow. “Always the submissive, right Ken?”

“Fuck off Tweek.” Despite his harsh words, he grins and takes the hand offered to him. He groans as he gets yanked to his feet, every part of his body in some sort of discomfort or pain. “Every goddamn time man. I don’t know why I keep agreeing to this shit.”

“Probably because you’re a masochist?” 

“Probably,” Kenny says with a shrug. “Surely after 6 months, odds would say that I would have won at least  _ one _ of these fights by now. I don’t get it man.”

“You’re a worthy opponent, Ken. Why do you think I keep asking you to spar with me?” Tweek pauses, using his teeth to rip the edge of the tape holding his sparring gloves to his wrists. He pulls at the tape as it unwinds from his forearms, ripping some of his light blonde hairs out. “Just remember, I started learning to fight when I was only three years old and was a black belt in six different styles by the time I was ten. Whereas you, on the other hand, started street fighting in your backyard at the tender age of fifteen when you realised it was a good way to scam money off your dads drunk friends. It’s just facts.”

“That is true. I’m kind of a natural, aye?” Kenny says smugly. He takes a long gulp from his water bottle, before pouring the rest of the contents over his head, washing away the sweat and effectively soaking himself and the floor.

“Not on the dojo floor, man! Fuck.” Tweek grabs his gym towel to wipe up the water of the foam mats jigsawing across the floor.

“Oops, sorry” says Kenny, entirely unapologetic, shaking his damp hair like a dog.

Tweek rolls his eyes as he hoists his gym bag over his shoulder. He’s sure that Kenny does shit like this on purpose just to get on his nerves. He finds it amusing when he riles Tweek up, because  _ “the banter just gets so much better when you’re mad” _ .

“So what’s the plan for tonight, Boss?” Kenny enquires as he follows Tweek out of the training facility.

“Probably gonna sit at home and do jack fuck all, as per usual,” Tweek huffs. He never gets to go out and do anything fun and reckless like other people his age, and it’s all because of his last name and the family  _ business _ . He feels it like a shackle around his neck, suffocating him and weighing him down.

Kenny hums in sympathy, following the curly haired blonde down the long carpeted hall. When Kenny was a kid, he used to dream of living in a place like this, right up until the day he got this job and moved in. Coming from a derelict house on the wrong side of the tracks, Kenny couldn’t see how spending every night staying inside a luxurious penthouse apartment was all bad, but he can understand where his friend is coming from. Afterall, he had plenty of years of running around, getting into trouble and having a shit-load of fun before he landed this job, whereas Tweek has had expectations and responsibilities forced upon him since he could walk. He has never run around drunk in the middle of the night with a bunch of other drunk kids causing havoc. Never snuck out of his bedroom window to go hump some other horny teenager in the back seat of their parents’ car. Hell, the poor kid is 23 tomorrow, and he has  _ never even been to a nightclub. _

“Do you ever wish you could be someone else?” Kenny muses, without really thinking.

Immediately, Tweek shoots back with a curt “Yes.”

“Even though you-”

“Yes” Tweek cuts him off.

“Even with all the mon-”

“The answer is still yes, Kenny.” Tweek finally reaches his bedroom; one of eight in the enormous apartment, and whips around to face his friend and employee. “I can’t do anything or go anywhere without a bodyguard,” he gestures at Kenny, to make his point, “and even if I could, no one would even try to talk to me because they are all too afraid of my dad who is  _ extremely _ powerful and, not to mention, completely fucking unhinged!” he takes a sharp inhale through his nose, before continuing in a far more even tone. “Tomorrow at 3:08am, I will have officially completed my 23rd trip around the sun, and I can honestly say that there hasn’t been a single day of my life so far where I have actually gotten to  _ live _ . So yes, I wish I could be someone else, even just for a day.”

Kenny purses his lips, taking in everything that Tweek has just said. He wishes there was a way that he could help.

Maybe there is a way he could help.

“Let’s do it then.”

“What?” Tweek asks, eyebrows drawn in, not fully comprehending what his bodyguard is suggesting that they do.

“Let’s go be someone else… just for tonight.”

Tweek processes Kenny’s words before nodding slowly. “Okay… and what do you propose?”

“Let’s go out!” Kenny says, throwing his arms up enthusiastically. 

“Out?”

“Yeah! Like to a club!” Kenny exclaims. He’s sure that this is exactly what Tweek (and not to mention himself) needs. “It’s going to be your birthday in 5 hours so we can go celebrate by tearing up the d-floor! Painting the town red! All that Jazz! Come on… please Tweek! It will be so much fun!”

Tweek sighs, but he can’t stop the small smirk from spreading across his lips. “If I say yes, will you stop talking exclusively in expressions?”

“Yes, Boss!” 

Tweek bites his lips thinking about it. He never really thought that he would actually ever do this sort of thing, despite his many day dreams. By the time he was of legal age, he was used to his reality; always obeying his father, never rocking the boat or acting reckless as it could draw unnecessary attention, not being invited to things anymore after turning down invite after invite, his only friends being entirely made up of staff hired by his family. It wasn’t an ideal way to live, but it’s the only way he has ever known. 

But now, he was being given the chance to go out for one night; to let loose and forget about all of his responsibilities, and even though it was everything he had always wanted, he was  _ scared. _ And he also knew that this sort of thing was easier said than done.

“It sounds great Ken, but everywhere around here, people know who I am and who I am related to. It will be impossible to actually have any fun.”

“Well…” Kenny slings his arm around Tweek’s shoulder’s, bringing him closer so that he can whisper in his ear, “that’s why we need to go somewhere you  _ wouldn’t  _ be as easily recognized. Somewhere  _ touristy _ . Say for example… SoHo?”

“SOHO?!” Tweek yells, causing Kenny to immediately start shooshing him. “Are you crazy? That’s the Tucker’s territory!”

“I know! But, it’s only, like, twenty minutes from here, so we can beat a hasty retreat if need be. That’s  _ also  _ why we’re going to dress up and create personas for ourselves. No one will be any the wiser, and anyway, it would have to be shit poor luck for us to run into the Tucker’s or any of their lackey’s in the one club we choose out of all of Harlem. And besides, I doubt any of them would even know what you look like considering how little you go out...”

Tweek’s guts turn with anxiety, but in the end, the promise of getting to be someone else for a night is what wins him out. “Okay… let's do it.”

“Yes!” Kenny throws his arms around Tweek, “You will not regret this! We’re going to have the best time ringing in your 23rd birthday!”

“Okay okay, get off me now. You’re all wet” says Tweek, pushing Kenny away. He throws open his bedroom door and steps across the threshold. “Meet me back here in 30 minutes. I need to go have a shower.”

Kenny goes to follow Tweek into the room. “Is that an invitation?”

The door that proceeds to slam in his face is a firm no.

***

Tweek is sure that he is going to get turned away when he presents his ID to the club bouncer, but the man only studies Tweek’s face for a long 5 seconds, before handing him back the small card and nodding his head to affirm that he can go through. The fact that he didn’t so much as quirk an eyebrow at the name on the card does a lot to quieten his nerves.

He’s surprised that the thick-necked man even believed that the person on the ID is even him with the way that Kenny has dressed him up.

Earlier that evening, after Tweek had showered, Kenny knocked at his door lugging a heavy canvas bag full of different makeup, beauty products and clothing. When Tweek questioned where he got all this from, he had told him that some of it was his, and some of it was stuff that he had borrowed from the maid staff.

Kenny quickly began to work his magic. He straightened Tweeks hair before combing a temporary colouring powder through it, changing Tweek’s hair from it’s usual light blonde to a startlingly bright green. When they both agreed that the straightened green hair made him look like the love child of Einstein and the Hulk, Kenny pulled it back into a tight bun at the crown of his head. He then used a black kohl eyeliner pencil to line his eyes, which made his light blue eyes pop. Lastly, Kenny dressed Tweek up in some tight black skinny jeans, all black converse and a short sleeve button up shirt decorated with a bright paisley pattern in pinks, oranges and yellows. When Tweek went to button the shirt all the way, Kenny stopped him once he hit the bottom of his sternum, telling him to leave the rest unbuttoned saying that he should use his boxing-refined pectoral muscles as the “ _ gay man’s bait that they are _ ”. Tweek didn’t know how to take that, but he liked the way that his open shirt showed just a hint of his chest tattoo and decided to listen to his bodyguard’s advice. Afterall, he had spent good money and painful hours on the piece, and hardly anyone besides Kenny and the tattoo artist themselves ever got to see it.

Kenny hadn’t donned much of an alternative look, saying to Tweek that it’s unlikely anyone would recognise him anyway as he’s not high in the ranks of the Tweak family. Kenny left his shaggy dark blonde hair down, the ends brushing the tops of his shoulder’s, and had coated his lips in a sparkling pink lip gloss, making his full lips look shiny and apetising. He wore bright red corduroy flares, a silky royal blue top, pink tinted glasses and a black fedora with a peacock feather. He looked like something the Beatles would have dreamt up in one of their 1960’s acid trip’s and Tweek _ fucking loved it. _ Kenny had such a confident swagger to him that he could wear whatever the hell he wanted, and he would still look cooler than everyone else in the room. Tweek hoped to one day be able to adopt the same conviction in himself.

Tweek could hear loud bass-heavy music and the buzzing of lots of people as he started to descend down the staircase of the club, called  _ 22 Below _ . The staircase smelt faintly of cigarettes and stale urine, and there were layers upon layers of posters coating the walls. 

Kenny drags Tweek to the bar almost immediately. He beelines for an open space at the counter where they’re promptly approached by a bartender. Ken flashes a dazzling smile at the short brunette behind the counter. “Two of your finest whiskey sours, m’lady.”

The bartender quirks their eyebrow at the eccentric young man and his green haired companion. “Bold of you to assume my gender, sir”. 

Kenny’s face lit up, always excited to meet another gender nonconforming comrad (Kenny has identified as gender fluid before he even really knew what the term meant). “Bold of you to assume mine.” Kenny sticks out his hand in offer of a fistbump, which the bartender promptly meets smiling widely at the pair. Tweek smiles shyly as he gives a half wave, lacking Kenny’s bravado in the social interaction department. “I’m Kenny and this is my bestest friend, Tweek, and in 2 hours from now, it’s going to be his birthday.”

“Happy Birthday,” they say warmly, which Tweek smiles back at with a small thanks.

“And so I was hoping that I could give you this,” Kenny places a crisp bill on the counter, “and you can make sure we get priority service?”

“Hell yeah, I can.” The bartender pockets the cash before making two very strong whiskey sours for the two men. They also poured two overflowing shots of Fireball on the house, placing them with a flourish in front of them. “An early birthday gift so make sure you’re sufficiently buzzed by the time the clock strikes Midnight.”

Kenny and Tweek cheers before throwing back the gifted shots and picking up their whiskey sours. They finish their first drinks in a matter of minutes, eager to feel the effects of the alcohol. The 2nd drinks go down just as easily, and followed swiftly by the third set, and then the fourth. By the time the clock ticks over to 11pm, Tweek and Kenny are three sheets to the wind, singing loudly with their drinks spilling over their hands from jumping around wildly on the dance floor. Tweek is sure they must look completely insane.

Tweek also can’t remember the last time he was having this much fun. 

***

Craig surveys the crowded club with a bored expression. The strobes of brightly coloured lights and the heavy bass soundtrack being entirely overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. He takes long slow sips of his cosmopolitan as he scans the crowd.

His eyes fall upon two eccentric characters surrounded by a circle of bodies in the middle of the dance floor. The two men bounce around and dance like crazy as the rowdy crowd cheer and clap them on. They laugh loudly, grins splitting their handsome faces as they get lost in the music and twirl each other around.

A small smirk spreads across Craig’s face as he watches the display. They look so liberated and free. Craig wishes he could be like that.

“Are you passing gas or something?” says a voice over Craig’s right shoulder.

Craig scowls, glaring at the dark haired man in the suit next to him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well it almost looked like you smiled for a second, but that would never fucking happen, so I just assumed you were passing gas.”

Craig rolls his eyes and huffs, taking another sip as he looks back out across the dance floor. The previous human circle has dispersed and the two men from before can no longer be seen in the crowd. He strains his eyes to try and catch a shock of green hair, but the brightly coloured lights make it an impossible task. “Don’t you have something better to do, Stanley?”

“‘Fraid not. Boss’s orders were to stick with you tonight and keep you out of trouble, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Fucking grand.” Craig downs the last of his cocktail. “I’m going to get another drink.” Craig walks down from the small platform of the VIP section and makes his way to the bar, not caring for the bottle service and wanting an excuse to get away from his suffocating hired help.

Craig is approaching the counter as he watches in mild horror as a blur of green comes flying towards him. He sticks out his arms just in time to catch the tumbling man before he could fall flat on his face. His body bends under the dead weight of the stranger. Craig stares at the top of his green hair as this mystery man is too busy cackling to try and right his footing.

“Are you okay?” Craig asks, shouting to be heard over the speakers.

The man finally regains his composure and establishes himself on the ground. Standing up straight, Craig notices that he is only about an inch shorter than himself. The similar height gives him an advantageous view of the kohl rimmed, icy blue eyes staring back at him. 

The green haired man is still grinning widely and his eyes are crinkled with laughter lines. “That was a close one! Holy shit!”.

The smile spread across the clumsy man’s face accentuating his sharp cheekbones and chiselled jawline. He has impeccably white teeth showcasing a couple of gaps, his pink tongue poking out a little between the middle one. Craig was incredibly gay, but he was certain that even the straightest of men could see that the guy who was currently pressed up against his chest was very attractive.

Craig becomes painfully aware of his arms still snaked around the strangers waist. He lets him go, but keeps a hold of his hip with his left hand. “I didn’t realise it would be that easy to get you to fall for me,” Craig says, leaning in close to make sure he can hear him over the music.

The mystery man put a hand on Craig’s chest as he laughed. Craig felt an intense heat spread from when he was touching, even through the fabric of his clothes. “Are you sure you didn’t mean to ask me if I fell from heaven?” he asks, smirking at Craig.

“That too, Angel Face.” Craig feels a small thrill when he realises that he caused the other man to blush. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Shouldn’t I buy you one for saving my life back there?”

“I’d hardly call it saving your life.”

“Fine, saving my face then.” 

“It would be a shame to let any harm come to something so perfect. I was only doing my civic duty.”

“You really do have all the lines, don’t you?” Craig just shrugs, biting the corner of his lips to stop himself from grinning. “Well how about that drink then, Mr…?”

Craig doesn’t want to tell him his name yet. He knows that once people find out his family name, they either run for the hills or they immediately want something from him. So instead of saying Tucker instead he says “Uh… Marsh! Yeah, Stan Marsh.” Craig holds out his hand for a shake.

The stranger clasps his hand in his own. His grip is firm and Craig can’t help but notice the small tears and grazes across the pale, freckled knuckles.  _ A fighter _ he thinks. He can recognise the tell tale sign as he has seen the same visual across the backs of his own hands on numerous occasions. “Pleased to make your acquaintance Stan Marsh. I’m Paul.” he shakes Craigs hand but only twice before dropping it and turning toward the bar.

“No last name Paul?” Craigs eyebrow quirks at the man as he leans on the counter of the bar next to him.

“Uhhh... McCartney.”

“Paul McCartney?” Craig narrows his eyes at the mysterious man. “Surely that's a fake name.”

“Oh, it is.” 

“Well, can I get your real name?”

“Only my friends know that information, Mr Marsh.” The irony of the situation doesn’t evade Craig. 

“I did just save your life. Does that not make us friends?”

“I thought it was only my face you saved?”

“My point still stands.”

Tweek hums for a second, as he catches the bartenders eye and they head over towards the two men. “We can become  _ very _ good friends, if you play your cards right.” Tweek teases in his ear, warm hand caressing the outside of Craig’s thigh. Even though the action wasn’t very explicit, it still caused Craig’s jeans to feel awfully tight.

“What can I get you two?” says the bartender.

“I’ll get another whiskey sour and a…” Tweek looks at Craig questioningly, waiting for him to place his drink order

“Cosmo, thanks.”

Tweek’s brows go up in amusement at the drink choice. Not that there was anything wrong with a man wanting a cocktail. It’s just that looking at the tall tree of a man with his serious features and business-casual outfit, you wouldn’t guess that the sweet pink drink would be his first choice. 

“Thank you Jules!” Tweek calls in a sing-song voice across the bar. The bartender winks at him as they start to make the drinks. Tweek giggles a little as he turns towards Craig. “At least now I am 100% certain that you are gay,” he teases.

Craig was about to defend his choice of drink, but the sparkles of mischief in those blue eyes deterred him from getting his hackles raised. He leans in close; close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. “Was there ever any doubt,  _ Paul? _ ”

Tweek smirks, a little bit about the fake name, and a little bit from the obvious move of the attractive man in front of him. “Well… lucky me then.” 

Tweek and Craig get their drinks a moment later, Tweek making sure to tip Jules generously. Craig lets Tweek try his cosmo, and Tweek acknowledges that the fruity drink is delicious. He thinks to himself that it will surely taste even better on the other man’s lips.

Craig asks if Tweek would like to come sit and talk, but Tweek tells him that he would much rather dance. Craig isn’t much of a dancer but the way “Paul” was looking at him through his eyelashes, he is sure that he could be persuaded to do the chicken dance if that is what he asked for. It was almost amusing how pliable he became in the hands of a man with a pretty face.

Tweek takes one of Craig’s large, warm hands in his own and drags him out to the dance floor. Craig is off put by the mass of sweaty bodies pressed far too closely to his own but he diligently follows Tweek like a moth following the light. When they reach the middle of the dance floor, Tweek turns around to face Craig, and pulls him in by his wrists. He places Craig’s hands on his waist and takes a step forward, so that they are chest to chest. Tweek’s hips start moving to the music as his hands slowly move up from Craig’s wrists, groping at his biceps on the way through, to finally settle around his neck. Craig’s pant’s grow tighter still as Tweek presses their lower bodies closer together, practically grinding on his thigh as he moves with the music. 

Tweek pulls on Craig’s neck gently, slowly bringing their faces closer together. His gaze is fixed on Tweek’s mouth. The hungry look makes Tweek’s mouth go dry and he is sure he almost sees Craig’s pupils dilate when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. Craig cocks his head to the side in anticipation for the kiss he is sure is about to happen, but instead Tweek’s lips graze the shell of his ear. “You need to loosen up. You’re dancing like a robot.”

The soft breath tickling his ear and rustling his hair sends a shiver down Craig’s spine. He’s never been so deeply affected by anyone before, but the mysterious man with the fake name is so alluring and enticing that Craig feels himself becoming enraptured by his touch, addicted to the feel of his body against his own. He almost whine’s when the green haired man separates their bodies. 

“This is what you look like,” Tweek laughs as he does a lackluster version of the robot dance and pulls his face into a bored expression, imitating his dance partner.

Craig laughs at the bad impression of himself. “That is  _ not  _ what I look like.”

“You wanna bet?” 

Craig’s skin burns to be close to the man again. He feels like an addict seeking a fix, as he grabs Tweek’s hand and yanks him back to his chest. His free hand wraps around Tweek’s shoulders, before making the slow descent towards the curve of his lower back, stopping just short before he can grab a handful of that delectable ass. “I know there’s no way I could look that miserable with you in my arms.”

Tweek melts at the statement. Other than a handful of friends-with-benefits situations and his one highschool boyfriend, Tweek hasn’t had much romantic experience but he can recognise the butterflies, and how they go crazy under this man’s touch. Tweek knows that whatever this fling is will be short lived and will die a natural death when the sun rises tomorrow and he has to return to his suffocating life, but for now, just in this moment, he is going to seize the opportunity and kiss this man.

Tweek brings his hand up and places it on the back of Craig's neck, finger tips intertwining with the soft, dark locks at the nape of his neck. He lifts his chin and moves forward until only an inch separates them. He stops, looking into Craig’s eyes. It’s an invitation. He will leave it up to him if he wants to close the distance or not.

Craig’s stares shifts down to look at the cupid bow of Tweek’s upper lip, wondering what it would feel like if he ran his tongue over it. He lets go of the hand still held in his own to place it on the back of Tweek’s head, pulling them together and closing the gap between them. Craig is instantly enraptured by how soft and sweet Tweek’s lips are. He could get drunk on the way their mouths fit together. The ebb and flow of their kisses as they fall into sync make Craig feel like they had done this a million times before. They fit together, almost like Tweek’s mouth was made to kiss his own. When their tongues explore the terrain of each other's mouths, Craig can taste whiskey and lemons. 

His hand inches down subconsciously, grasping at the cushion of Tweek’s ass. A needy moan escaped the green-haired man's lips as the action causes their groins to bump together. Tweek can feel himself growing desperately hard, and if the firm bulge in Craig’s chinos is anything to go by, then there is no doubt he feels the same.

They break apart, gasping for air but wishing for nothing more than to taste each other again only moments after separating. Tweek’s hand is resting on Craig's chest measuring how his heart is racing when his Apple Watch lights up on his wrist. The time is 3 minutes past midnight. 

“Happy birthday to me,” Tweek whispers into the small space between their mouths.

“What?” Craig asks breathily.

“It’s past midnight. It’s my birthday…” 

“I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“That’s probably because I didn’t tell you.”

“Well... that makes sense, but I didn’t even get you a gift.”

Tweek joins their lips together again, kissing him slowly, massaging his tongue with his own.

“There you go. You gave me a birthday kiss. That’s my gift,” Tweek says once they pull apart.

_ Challenge accepted.  _ “I believe I can do better than that…”

“Is that so?”

Craig nods as he tilts his head down, latching onto the alabaster skin of Tweek’s slender neck. He’s nibbles at the skin before pressing gentle kisses to the reddening skin. Tweek’s breath quickens, small gasps escaping his mouth as sparks shoot up and down his spine. His neck is an erogenous zone for the blonde. The assault that Craig’s mouth is executing on his skin is causing all the blood in his body to travel directly to his groin. He’s never been so aroused in his life. Not even that time that David wanted to try Kinbaku (but that is a story for another time).

Tweek grabs roughly onto the hair at the base of Craig’s skull, detaching his lips from his neck. He roughly mashes their lips together in desperation, Craig meeting him in pressure and urgency. 

“I need you… right now,” Tweek whispers breathily.

Craig doesn’t have to be told twice.

***

The toilet stall door bangs loudly against the wall as the two frantic bodies crash into it. Craig and Tweek are a mess of tongue and wandering hands. Tweeks finger nails are clawing at Craig’s back desperately as if to try and shred the fabric to pieces through sheer force. Craig grabs handfuls of Tweek’s ass, wishing that the constricting denim wasn’t in the way so that he could feel the smooth supple flesh.

“Fuck me, you’re so hot,” Craig pants against Tweek’s neck.

“Speak for yourself.”

Craig’s hands skirt around to the front of Tweek’s jeans, unbuttoning them and then pausing before undoing the zipper. “May I?”

“Don’t fucking ask me, just do it.”

“Affirmative consent is very imp-“ Craig is cut off as Tweek mashes their faces together again. Craig’s hand pulls down Tweek’s zipper and pushes his jeans down over his ass. Craig’s mouth starts to salivate at the prominent outline in the crotch of Tweek’s briefs. Craig palms the bulge, relishing in how incredibly hard and hot the other man’s cock is. A needy whine is pulled from Tweek’s throat.

“Are you ready for your present?” Craig pants. 

Tweeks brow cocks up in question. Craig presses a chaste kiss to those cupid’s bow lips before squatting down. He reaches into the waistband of his briefs and pulls Tweek’s dick free of it’s confines. The cock sitting hotly in his hand is long and slender. The head is swollen and red, throbbing with want. Tweek’s head falls back against the stall wall, overwhelmed by the sensation just from Craig’s gentle, explorative touches. When was the last time he was touched like this? He can’t even remember. 

Craig licks his lips, before dragging his tongue slowly along the underside of Tweek’s dick. “Oh fuck,” Tweek gasps. Craig wraps his lips around the swollen head, dragging his tongue across the slit. 

He grips Tweek’s hips and relaxes his throat before slowly inching the entirety of Tweek’s length into the hot cavern of his mouth. Craig doesn’t have a gag reflex; something that, as a gay men, he is incredibly grateful for. He bobs his head back and forth, pulsing the head of Tweek’s cock against the back of his throat. He pulls back slightly, latching his lips instead around the head and sucking. He wraps both hands around Tweek’s length, jerking him slowly. 

The noises escaping Tweek’s mouth change from erotic whimpers to primal moans. The desperation in those noises cause Craig’s cock to grow uncomfortably hard. He needs release and he needs it soon.

He stands up and pushes Tweek’s body into the stall wall with his own. Tweek’s wet member presses against the sliver of skin poking out from underneath Craig’s shirt, causing that pool of heat in the bottom of his stomach to swirl. He grabs the back of Tweek’s neck, bringing their mouths together in a hot desperate mess. Tweeks slender fingers make quick work of Craig’s pants. He pushes his chinos and briefs down roughly, releasing Craig’s magnificent cock. It’s slightly shorter than Tweek’s but it’s thicker and wet and  _ holy fuck  _ Tweek’s wants to feel the heat in his hand.

Craig’s hands wrap under Tweek’s thighs, hoisting him up and wedging him between the stall wall and his body. Tweeks legs latch around Craig’s hips for extra support. He yelps when Craig’s hands move from his thighs to roughly squeeze his ass. 

Tweek spits into the palm of his hand, before wrapping his long slender hand around his and Craig’s cocks’s. The hot flush of Craig’s dick pressed against his own is enough to drive him wild, not to mention the added pressure of his hand slowly jerking their lengths together. 

“Did you just spit on your hand?” Craig asks breathily, forehead resting against tweeks. 

“Yes, is that a problem?” Tweek pants.

“Oh fuck! N-No, holy shit, there’s no problem” Craig whines, dropping his head into the crook of Tweek’s neck. 

Tweek smirks at the sound of the serious and stoic man losing his composure. he runs his thumb over their slits, smearing the precum over their shafts. “Okay good, then stop talking so I can focus on getting us off.”

Tweek starts to quicken his pace, edging both of the men closer to their climax. Craig tries to stop the heady moans and pleasure induced cusses that keep escaping his lips, but fails miserably. He instead latches onto the smooth alabaster skin of Tweek’s neck, nibbling and sucking to keep his mouth occupied while Tweek works them both over. 

Craig feels himself getting closer, and judging by the way Tweek’s breath keeps hitching and jumping, he can tell he is also. His hips start moving on their own accord, fucking the loose tunnel of Tweek’s fist. The feel of the slick, wet cock pressed against his own making him lose control.

Tweek lets out a few high pitched whines before groaning loudly. He bites  _ hard _ at Craig’s collarbone to stifle the noise as his release comes hot and fast, cum splattering across their chests in thick ribbons.

The feel of Tweek’s cock jerking and spasming against his own and the pleasurable pain caused by the teeth buried in his flesh is enough to send Craig over the edge, his own climax following only moments later. 

The two men pant, their hot breath mingling as their faces are only an inch apart. They’re both basking in the post orgasm glow as they press their lips together once more. The kiss is more tender and less desperate this time around, their tongues moving together in a slow, languid dance. Neither wants to pull apart, hoping to delay the inevitable; to face the reality that they’re both covered in cum and sweat in the dirty, graffitied bathroom stall of a SoHo nightclub. 

Eventually Tweek pulls away, pushing a loose green curl out of the sweat of his forehead and tucking it behind his ear. “Do you think you could put me down now?” He asks.

“No,” Craig says nuzzling his head into Tweek’s neck, savouring the smell of sweat and sex and  _ Creed Aventus  _ cologne. “I’m quite happy right here.”

Tweek laughs, tangling his fingers in the slightly damps strands of hair at the nape of Craig’s neck. “I’m glad you are, but my legs are cramping.”

Craig reluctantly places Tweek’s feet back on the ground. He grabs some toilet paper, Craig swatting Tweek’s hands away when he tries to grab for the tissue, and cleans them both up. They both exit the stall, stopping to fix themselves up in the dirty bathroom mirror. Unfortunately, the flushed tone of their skin and the cum stain on the hem of Craig’s shirt give them away, no matter how much they try to clean themselves up.

As Tweek is re-buttoning his shirt, Craig comes over and wraps his arms around his waist from behind. His hands glide over the silky material of the shirt, before tentatively reaching the exposed skin and brushing softly over the tattoo emblazoned over Tweek’s heart.

“What does your tattoo mean?” Craig whispers in his ear.

Tweek pulls the seam of his shirt aside to reveal the tattoo gracing his left pectoral. It was an intricate birdcage design, with a heavy looking lock. It was placed right over his heart. “It’s kind of dumb looking back on it now, but I got it on my eighteenth birthday. I guess at the time, I saw people around me turning eighteen and gaining this new found freedom. Whereas for me, I felt trapped…” Tweek ran his fingers over the artwork, expecting to feel something but only feeling smooth skin. “I guess it felt symbolic in a way, but it’s 5 years later, and I’m still trapped in a life I never asked for and nothing has changed.” Tweek met Craig’s eyes in the mirror. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Craig knew that feeling all too well. Everyday he was living a life he never wanted to live. He dreamt of running away and adopting a new identity and getting to live his life the way he wanted. He leans down and presses a kiss to the patch of sensitive skin behind Tweek’s left ear. “I understand more than you know.”

Tweek leans back into the solid warmth of Craig’s chest, continuing to button his shirt and abandoning the conversation. Despite the fact that they just came together in a bathroom stall, this man was a stranger and did not need to know the thoughts that plagued Tweek’s mind and kept him up at night.

Tweek turns around and presses one more slow, sensual kiss to Craig’s lips before dragging him out of the bathroom stall and into the loud, overcrowded club. 

“I’m going to get us another drink,” Craig yells over the music, releasing the hand around Tweek’s waist and slinking off towards the bar. No sooner does Craig disappear into the crowd, that a large hand clamps down on his shoulder making Tweek simultaneously jump out of his skin, while also grabbing the hand clasping his shoulder to pull his attacker into a violent armlock.

“What the fuck, Tweek! It’s just me!” Kenny yelled.

Tweek released his body guard from the immobilising hold. “Holy shit, Kenny! You scared me! You can’t just go around grabbing people like that!”

“Okay, I’m sorry but I’ve been looking everywhere for you man!” Kenny yells, straining to be heard over the music. “We need to go!”

“What? Why?”

Kenny grabs Tweek’s elbow, dragging him into a slightly quieter corner of the bustling night club. “Do you have any idea who that guy you’re with is?”

“Yeah, he said his name is Stan Marsh.”

Kenny grabs Tweek’s chin, directing his head over towards the VIP area and pointing at a tall, solid man with dark hair and wearing a tailored suit. “ _ THAT  _ is Stan Marsh.” then swivels Tweek’s head toward the bar and points at the man who just had his dick pressed flush against Tweek’s own, “and  _ THAT  _ is Craig Fucking Tucker.”

Tweek’s eyes grow wide as the implication of Kenny’s words dawns on him. That the handsome, charming man that he had been seducing all night was the son of his father’s biggest enemy and his family's number one rival in the New York drug scene.

Tweek looks at Kenny with a horrified expression when he realised that he had just spent the last 20 minutes humping the last person in the world he should be.

“But- No? What? He told me… he fucking told me his name was Stan Marsh!”

“Yeah, that’s because the real Stan Marsh is his body guard. And considering we’re in Tucker territory, he probably gave you a fake name because he was wary of you.”

“But I was wary of him first! I fucking told him my name was Paul McCartney!”

“You what?” Kenny asks, unsure if he heard Tweek correctly.

Tweek’s already mortified expression grows. He grabs Kenny by the lapels, pulling him close so that he can whisper-shout in his ear.

“What the fuck do I do Kenny?! we just got it on in the bathroom! He has my fucking jizz on his shirt! He’s going to ask me what my real name is! We need to fucking go  _ right now!” _

“Yep, good idea. Let’s leg it.” Kenny turns with an apologetic look toward Stan. He brought his right hand up to his ear, signalling for Stan to call him. Kenny knew it was risky but he couldn’t deny the instant chemistry that they had. He hoped that the man chose to use the mobile number he scrawled across the back of a napkin in eyeliner pencil. 

Tweek dragged Kenny up to the street, barely letting Kenny catch his feet on the way up the stairs. He frantically was waving down taxis but none of them would stop.

“Kenny this is all your fucking fault!”

Kenny scoffed defensively at the statement. “How the fuck was I supposed to know that you’d end up rubbing dicks with the only other gay spawn of a drug lord in all of New York?! You can hardly blame this on me?”

“I fucking can and I will!” After the third vacant taxi drove past without even throwing them a second glance, Tweek did the only thing he thought he could do and stood in the middle of the road, forcing a taxi to slam on their breaks, narrowly avoiding hitting the bold young man.

“Across the bridge,” He said while pushing Kenny into the back of the cab, not waiting for the answer. He knew the man would agree once he threw the $100 bill from his back pocket at him. “Drop us off at the Brooklyn Marina.” 

“Wait! Paul!” 

Tweek’s whole body seized up. He recognised that husky, slightly nasally, voice from when it was moaning hot breath into his ear. 

He had two options; he could throw himself into the back of the cab and race back to his Brooklyn Heights apartment, offering no explanation to the man who spent most of tonight taking his breath away, or he could turn around now and drop a bomb into the middle of what was supposed to be a fleeting romance and make everything a thousand times more complicated than they ever should have been.

His brain truly meant to go with the first option, but his body acted on it’s own accord, turning to face the one and only Craig Tucker.

Craig’s long legs strided over to him until he was standing a few feet before him. “Where did you go? I went to get you another drink and when I came back, you were gone?”

Tweek feels his gut coiling into a hot mess of guilt and desire. Craig looks so adorable, all puzzled and a little desperate as he stands in front of him. For only the 9 millionth time since he was born, he cursed his last name and the trouble it brought upon his life. If it wasn’t for his family ties, he could almost entertain the idea of this crazy fling not ending tonight. He could fantasise that it was he and Craig flagging down a cab together to take them to a shared bed. They could wander down to the corner cafe in the morning to nurse their pounding hangovers together with coffee and croissants. They could go for a walk and tell each other about their lives; regular ordinary lives that were uncomplicated and easy. And when the day slowly turned into evening and Tweek insisted on getting home, Craig would ask him if he could see him again and Tweek could say ‘Yes’.

Unfortunately, that isn’t the world that they live in and the fantasy is less painful if it was ignored entirely.

“I know… I’m sorry,” Tweek sighs. The burden of his reality weighed heavier on his chest in the early hours of his 23rd birthday. “I just really have to go.” Tweek scratches the back of his neck, averting his eyes. He doesn’t want to look into those deep brown eyes, sure that his resolve will crack.

“Do you really have to rush off so soon?” Craig takes a step forward, placing his knuckle under Tweek’s chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. “I was hoping we could talk some more? And maybe you’d finally give me your name?” Craig says softly, with the most adorable lopsided smile that Tweek almost melts into a useless gay puddle right in the middle of that SoHo sidewalk. 

“About that…” Tweek reluctantly places his hand on Craig’s wrist, pushing his hand away from his face. Partly because the contact was making it hard to concentrate, but mostly because he was worried that when Craig heard what he had to say next, he would want to lodge that same fist into one of his eye sockets. “I just found out that your name is not Stan Marsh, and that you’re actually Craig Tucker.” Tweek eyes Craig’s slightly guilty but mostly guarded expression. “And my name is not Paul…”

“Obviously,” Craig chuckles. 

Tweek gulps. Craig’s amusement does nothing to dissolve the anxiety curling around his organs. “My name is actually Tweek Tweak…”

He watches the same horrified expression that he wore earlier grace Craig’s handsome face. “As in…”

Tweek nods slowly, watching as a lonely candy wrapper tumbles down the street on the breeze. “The son of Richard Tweak; kingpin of the New York meth business…”

Craig’s pupils dart around, almost as if trying to solve a complex math equation written on thin air. “My dad…”

“Wants to kill my dad, yep. And rightfully so. My dad shot three slugs into your dad’s chest.”

Craig gnaws on his lip. “Well, I guess my dad tried to blow your dad up first, so it was possibly justified…”

Tweek can’t believe they’re even having this conversation. His life is so fucked up…  _ THEIR  _ life is so fucked up. 

The cab driver honks the horn impatiently. Tweek takes a step backwards and away from Craig. “So you can understand why I have to go.” Tweek locks eyes with the stoic man once more. “I had a lot of fun tonight Craig and I wish it didn’t have to end, but you know that _no_ _one_ can know about this, right?” 

Craig nods slowly. There’s a sort of resigned sadness in those warm brown eyes. Tweek knows it well. It’s the same one he sees in the mirror every morning. 

Tweek shoots Craig an apologetic smile before turning towards the cab and moving to get inside. His hand is on the metal door frame when he feels Craig grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Tweek whirls on him, eyes wide and terrified. He’s sure that Craig is about to knock 

“Okay, I hear you and I know this is crazy, but…” Craig tried to bite back a lopsided smile but he fails miserably, “tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, and I can’t stand the thought of this being it for whatever this is,” Craig’s eyes plead at Tweek’s, desperate for him to hear him out. “So, if no one had to know… would you consider meeting me again?”

Tweek is lost for words. He had never entertained the idea that this meeting could survive the night, even before he knew who Craig is. He can’t deny the magnetic connection that they have and the desire he has to see him again, but at the end of the day, it is just impossible.

Craig can see the regretful look in Tweek’s eyes. He knows what he’s about to tell him, but he refuses to hear it just yet. Tweek goes to open his mouth but Craig beats him to it. “Look, I know what you’re about to say, but please,” he grabs Tweek’s hand, running his thumb across his knuckles, “just have a think about it, and if you want to talk a little bit more, I’ll be by Cherry Hill Fountain tomorrow in Central Park at 5pm.” Craig brings the hand he’s holding up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the skin. “I really hope to see you there, Tweek.”

Tweek feels heat creep across his cheeks. It almost was laughable to him how he greedily grasped at this man's cock an hour earlier, and now he was blushing like a schoolgirl over a kiss to the back of his hand. 

The cab driver honked his horn again and started yelling foreign obscenities out the window. Craig released Tweek’s hand. “You better go.”

Tweek nodded, sliding into the backseat of the cab. The taxi driver took off at speed, racing away from the club and subsequently, the only man in New York who made Tweek’s heart race but was completely off limits. 

Tweek groans, dropping his face into his hands. Kenny whistles low. “That was some speech.”

Tweek looks up at his friend with pleading eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Kenny?”

“Do whatever feels right, Tweek. At the end of the day, you know what you want to do.”

Tweek nibbles at his thumb nail, anxiety rolling off him in waves. “But it’s impossible. It would never work. Our families are practically the drug lord versions of the Capulets and the Montagues. It would be foolish to even entertain the idea, right?” He looks at Kenny then, desperately seeking an outsider's objection to the answer he already knows he wants to choose.

Kenny places his hand on Tweek’s knee, squeezing gently and reassuringly. “I think that we only get one life, and it’s so short. So what’s the choice that you are least likely to regret one day on your deathbed? Because then that’s the one you should choose.”

Tweek absorbs Kenny’s words for a moment, before turning to gaze out the window and the New York traffic speeding by. He knows Kenny was right, but it doesn’t make him any less terrified to make that choice.

***

Craig checks his watch for what was probably the millionth time since arriving at the fountain. It is now 6:52pm. He has been waiting for two hours now for a man that still hasn’t shown. 

He sighs deeply at the knowledge that Tweek is not coming. He knows he should have left an hour ago, but he had hoped that Tweek would come eventually. 

It is now pretty obvious that isn’t the case.

Craig stands, stretching his long legs. They had become stiff and sore from sitting for so long. Craig sticks his hands into his jacket, and heads toward the exit, spirits much lower than when he had arrived. 

“Craig!”

Craig spins around at the sound of someone calling his name. Tweek is half jogging around the fountain to catch him before he leaves. 

Craig grins, ecstatic that he has shown up after all, albeit two hours late. Craig notices that Tweek’s hair is no longer a vivid green and is instead a light blonde, complimenting his bright blue eyes.

“You’re late,” Craig teases.

“I know! I’m so sorry! I kept changing my mind on if I should come or not,” Tweek says apologetically.

“Well, I’m glad you came.”

Tweek and Craig wander back over to the park bench and take a seat. They steal sidelong glances at each other.

“This is crazy,” Tweek breaths out.

“I know,” Craig says, turning towards Tweek.

“They could kill us for this.” Tweek turns towards Craig.

“I know.”

“And you still want to go through with this?” 

“Absolutely,” Craig says without a second thought.

A slow smile spreads across Tweek’s face. Craig’s certainty is flattering and helps ease his anxiety a small, but mighty, bit. He knows that this is risky, and dangerous, and was almost certainly going to get them into some serious trouble sooner or later, but all of that is outweighed by the way Craig’s easy smile and deep brown eyes make his insides tumble and his head spin in the best possible way. He is willing to take a chance on Craig. As long as Craig is willing to take a chance on him.

He reaches across the small space between them, intertwining their fingers. 

“So what now?” 

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Kenny and Stan are the worst body guards ever hahaha
> 
> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!


End file.
